


The Matter of Disguise

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M, disguises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya need to come up with a disguise.  Which one will they choose.  Takes place after The Return Movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matter of Disguise

“Okay, so we need a really great disguise,” Napoleon said as he lay stretched out on his couch looking up at the ceiling of his apartment.

Illya looked at him sleepily from one of the comfortable chairs. “What do you have in mind?” 

“You posed as a Russian Naval officer in The Neptune Affair.”

“That was no disguise -- I was a Russian Naval Officer.”

Napoleon lifted his head and looked questioningly at his partner.

“I served on a submarine,” Illya continued with a slight chuckle. “I remember one time. I was a lieutenant in the Russian Navy, you see, and I accidentally set fire to an igloo.” 

Napoleon looked at him with disbelief. “Sometimes, Illya, I think you make these things up just to astonish me. Though come to think of it you did look fantastic in your uniform.”

“What about your military attire?” Illya asked.

“I found out that khaki is not a good color for me,” Napoleon said lightly. “Could we get back on the subject please.” His memory of the days he’d spent in Korea were not fond ones.

“I understand that you portrayed the part of a bereaved brother during The Scuba Diver Affair.” Illya tossed out.

“That’s not a disguise.” Napoleon protested.

“This time you could be a bereaved sister,” Illya suggested with a smirk.

Napoleon wrinkled his nose in distaste at the suggestion of dressing in drag. “Okay, how about the time we were shipwrecked sailors in The Shark Affair we could go as seamen.” 

“I still hate the sea,” Illya said gloomily, he didn’t like thinking of the pain Napoleon endured from the whipping Shark had given him. 

“You looked rather sexy in that gondolier outfit in The Galatea Affair.” Napoleon leered at him out of the corner of his eye.

Illya snorted in response. 

“Hmmm, remember when I posed as a personal secretary in The Green Opal Affair. It would give me an excuse to sit in your lap,” Napoleon quipped. 

“Yes, the part in your hair was a cute touch,” agreed Illya. “Besides you’ve already done the personal secretary bit in the My Master's Voice Affair. Who makes up these names for these missions anyhow?”

“Didn’t you know, they got some Hollywood screen writer to name them,” Napoleon said as he reached over to get some grapes from a bowl on the coffee table. “I could be someone’s fiancé after all it worked, let’s see in the Ultimate Computer Affair and in the Virtue Affair? Oh and lets not forget the Re-collector Affair. All you would need is a bath robe.”

 

“No, thank you. I almost lost my head in the Virtue Affair: though I did manage to get the girl in the Re-collector Affair. How about an art collector? Your cover in the Re-collector Affair?” Illya suggested.

Napoleon shook his head. “No, I don’t know that much about art, just what I like. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you as a nude model. How about the times we posed as either a reporter or a photographer. We used that in the Super Colossal Affair. If I remember you ended up smelling divine,” he said with a snicker. “Then I got to be the photographer in the Candidate Wife Affair? I still can’t get over how much those two women looked alike. At least in the Tigers are Coming Affair I got the girl.”

 

“If they want this to remain secret I doubt we would be able to get away with being reporters. Pass me an apple,” Illya requested. “Besides we don’t need any girls, I have you.”

Napoleon flashed a delighted smile before throwing an apple to Illya. “Okay what’s left?”

“Well, Napoleon, at various times you have been a banker, a mercenary, a seller of joke items not to mention a fertilizer salesman and a THRUSH agent.”

 

 

“Hmmm, a banker? Oh yes, the best part of that assignment was the round bed that turned, I was disappointed that I didn’t get to use it like it was intended. Mercenary, I don’t remember -- wait a minute, wasn't that the one where we met Ernestine Pepper and you threw that guy over the balcony. I seem to remember a time when you got a parade for being a hero and I ended up being a mercenary. Like I said before, khaki is not a good color for me. ” He looked disgruntled at his partner.“ As for the seller of jokes, I can still smell those aardvarks.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “And as for fertilizer salesmen, I almost ended up married and you almost got tortured, not my idea of fun. Thrush agent? Number 26 wasn’t it in the Hula Doll Affair? It wasn't much of a disguise and I much prefer my own number- 11. Let’s see you’ve been a rickshaw driver in the Hong Kong Shilling Affair?"

 

“That was too hard on my feet,” Illya complained.

“You’ve done musician several times,” Napoleon suggested.

 

Well, playing the bass as in the Discotheque Affair would not be my first choice, maybe I could use the guitar like I did in the Take Me To Your Leader Affair, it’s not as heavy.”

“How about when you posed as an Indian, Little Beaver?” He watched Illya shiver and smiled. “Then what about a matador?”

 

“It was a very brave bull, Napoleon,” Illya said solemnly. 

With a sigh Napoleon went over other possibilities. “Tutor, as in the Her Master’s Voice Affair? No, you already think you know everything as it is. Tennis coach? Didn’t you do that one in the Galatea Affair with Mark? Did you wear shorts?” he asked hopefully while Illya shook his head. “Okay, what about my personal favorite the time you wore a dress in The Arabian Affair.” Napoleon came up with smiling in memory.

 

“That was not a dress," Illya scolded. "Well it beats that Japanese Buyer for the Goldwin Chain in the Hot Number Affair. I sort of liked posing as an artist in the Pop Art Affair, though.” 

 

“I liked watching you change clothes in the car,” Napoleon drooled as he remembered. "You've got to admit neither of them required much in the way of costumes."

"True," Illya agreed.

“Okay, how about the Yeti? As in the Abominable Snowman?” Napoleon got up off of the sofa and started pacing.

 

“Oh, no. That was not my idea,” Illya said shaking his head and throwing the apple core at Napoleon. “I don’t see why we just can’t wear tuxs?”

“I thought you didn’t like wearing tuxs?” Napoleon said in surprise.

“Well normally I don’t.” Illya was remembering the Fiddlesticks Affair. “However you do look dashing in one.”

 

This brought a smile to Napoleons face. “Hmmm” he said as thought hit him. Napoleon walked over to the window and drew the curtain.

“You’ve thought of something?” Illya said apprehensively.

“Maybe.” Going over to his record collection and picking out an album, Napoleon put it on the stereo. “How about something new, completely different? Have you ever heard of the Chipendale Dancers?”

“Noooo….who are they.” Illya got up looking ever more apprehensive.

Napoleon turned on the stereo and leering at his partner slowly started to remove his tie.

Da da da dada da da

Then one button at a time and very slowly he unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes always on the small blond Russian.

Illya licked his lips. He didn’t think he could stand it if Napoleon was going to be this slow.

“They are Male Strippers,” Napoleon said seductively as he went to pull his partner toward the bedroom.

Da da da dada da da

He watched his little blonde partner got the idea and he started to dance to the music, slowly removing his clothes.

Illya's eyes were closed as he swayed to the music and he let his shoulder holster drop to the floor. Then taking his turtleneck by the waist he slowly drew it over his head, and heard a gasp from his partner as he swung it around by the sleeve and let it fly not caring where it landed. He opened his eyes as he slowly unzipped his pants to see Napoleon’s eyes alight with lust and licking his lips, when he remembered…and pirouetting around dropped his pants to reveal no underwear. The next thing he knew he was tackled from behind and catapulted to the bed. 

“Napoleon, you didn’t let me finish,” Illya said, his eyes showing his amusement as Napoleon finished the job for him. 

“You crazy Russian, you’re going to be the death of me yet,” growled Napoleon, his voice hoarse with desire.

Soon they were both breathing hard and thrusting up against each other, frantic for release. Napoleon reclined among the tangled sheets a satisfied smile on his face as he trailed his fingers down the Russian's back, smiling as he felt the shiver it invoked. “They do say that practice makes perfect, you know.”

Illya pulled himself up and looked down at his stomach. “Napoleon, I don’t think this disguise is going to work. Too messy.”

Napoleon shrugged. “Well, back to the drawing board."

Then the doorbell rang.

The two men looked at each other in horror. Napoleon scrambled to his feet and grabbed his clothes, while his partner did the same. He frantically pulled up his pants not bothering with the underwear as he asked, “Who is it?” 

“Open the door, Mr. Solo.”

Hurriedly trying to get his shirt on. “Um, Yes, Sir Raleigh, just a minute. I have something burning on the stove.” 

Illya finished pulling his turtleneck down over his head and looked incredulously at his partner as he threw the left over clothing that they had left scattered around the room behind the couch.

Napoleon shrugged as if to say, ‘What else could I say?’ and waved Illya over frantically. Illya lit a match and looked around like mad for something to burn. He spotted one of Napoleon's socks on the floor and set fire to it before waving it around and tossing it in the wastebasket.

Coming over to the door Illya took a deep breath and checked to make sure he was zipped up, then he opened the door. Napoleon stayed behind it, buttoning up his shirt.

“Ah, good day, Mr. Kuryakin. I’m glad you’re here. I was in the neighborhood and thought I should tell you in person.” Raleigh came in with his hat in hand. “What is that smell?”

Illya exchanged a glance with Napoleon and held his breath. 

Napoleon finally got himself presentable. The room fairly reeked of recent sex and he hoped that the smell, as Sir Raleigh termed it, would be put down to something else. He came around the door to say, “Stove, sir. I’ve turned it off now.”

Sir John nodded in comprehension. “Ah, yes. Well, gentlemen, Lady Raleigh has decided not to have a costume party after all, so you won’t be needing those disguises.”  
He sounded disgruntled. “She’s changed it to a Roman theme. You know, togas and all that.” He gave a slight shiver as he said good night and left.

THE END


End file.
